there's water in the cup
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: Bucky disappears in the Snap, and Sam is left to cope.:: canon divergence for Infinity War, some spoilers for Endgame:: for Lo


_For Lo_

_Word Count: 1286_

* * *

Sam wakes up, and his heart is racing. Another night, another bad dream.

He laughs. He still remembers the early days after the war. How many nights had he woken up, covered in a cold sweat, and screaming Riley's name? How many times did he have to relive Riley's death before the shrink finally dropped those four little letters?

_PTSD. _

Now it's happening again. This time, it isn't Riley.

Sam hadn't been nearby when the Snap happened. Rhodey had found him in the woods, collapsed and nursing a sprained ankle.

He never saw Bucky turn to dust, but that doesn't stop him from seeing it now.

Everyone lost someone that day. Since the Snap, it seems like the world has stopped turning. Life goes on, but it feels like _everyone _is dead, like humanity has lost its beautiful resilience.

He climbs out of bed, fishing the pills from his bedside drawer. It hadn't taken much to get the prescription. God knows his mind is a mess right now and he's falling apart. He wants more than anything to just disappear and find a way to rid himself of the hole in his heart.

But he can't. Life goes on, and so will he.

With a heavy sigh, Sam opens his mouth and drops the little white pill on his tongue before dry swallowing. He had gotten better and found a way to cope with Riley's death; going off those pills had felt like a freedom he didn't know he was missing. Now, he needs them again, but it's okay. If they clean his mind and get rid of the clutter bouncing around within his skull, he will gladly take them.

Anything to help him feel alive again. God knows he needs it now.

And with that, he climbs to his feet, stretching until he hears the soft _crack _of his spine popping. He takes a deep breath. It's time to face the day, ready or not.

…

Steve seems to be anticipating his arrival at the compound. He holds out a plate of toast, bacon, and eggs and offers Sam a concerned smile.

"You know I can make my own breakfast, right?" Sam asks with a roll of his eyes. Still, be accepts the plate and keeps walking as he busts the yolk and soaks it up with his toast.

"And yet you never do," Steve says simply, easily matching Sam's pace. "You know it's a bad idea to take medicine on an empty stomach."

Sam gives him a sheepish, almost apologetic look. He shrugs before biting into the yolk-soaked toast. Steve means well, of course. He's such a stand-up guy that it's almost sickening. "Thanks for the tip, Mom," he says.

"Sam, are you okay?"

It's the question he hates the most. No one is okay. They're all getting by as best they can. It's been a year since their failed attempt to reverse the Snap, and it doesn't seem to get any easier.

It's a tragedy.

But it isn't the first major tragedy. Maybe it's the worst in living memory, but things have been terrible before. Plagues, famine, war, genocide. Humanity has found itself in dark, impossible, hopeless times before, but they have always found a way to bounce back.

They're going to do it again. Maybe it hurts like hell and feels like things can't get better. But they will. They have to. That's just the way the world works.

Sam chooses not to answer Steve. He knows anything he says will be too biting, too harsh. Instead, he quickens his step. Naturally, Steve matches it. "Nat have anything interesting to look into?" Sam asks. "You know I can be your eyes in the sky. Anything you need, I'm your man."

"Sam, stop."

Steve rests a hand on Sam's shoulder. He doesn't squeeze, doesn't hold Sam in place. Sam could so easily walk away, but he doesn't. There's a weight to his touch that keeps him from taking a step.

He takes a deep breath, composing his features. He can't afford a fight, and he knows this is one he would lose in a heartbeat. Biting the inside of his cheek, he turns to face Steve.

Part of him wishes he had continued this conversation with his back turned. There's something so sad, so vulnerable and raw in Steve's expression. It's strange to imagine that the great Captain America, an icon and beacon of hope to all, is still, in fact, human, just like everyone else.

"Yeah, Cap?" He stands a little straighter, swallowing dryly.

"It's okay to grieve," Steve tells him. "I know what Bucky means to you."

_Meant, _Sam thinks. _Past tense, because he's gone. My love wasn't enough to save him, just like my friendship wasn't enough to save Riley._

The thought makes his chest constrict, but he manages to remain stoic.

"You think I'm not grieving?"

Steve's face contorts into a strange expression, but Sam understands. Without saying a word, his expression speaks volumes. _Obviously_, his eyes seem to say.

Everyone grieves in their own way. Steve hosts his support groups and lets everyone talk about their feelings. Nat charges at every shadow, desperate for some bad guy to take down, like that can absolve her from her own demons; she's desperate to fill Fury's shoes, but she's tripping and stumbling because they're an awkward fit. Tony's hiding away, living a normal life; others act like it's a betrayal, but Sam thinks that he has the right idea.

And Sam? Sam does the only thing he knows to do. He wakes up every morning, takes his medicine, laces his boots, and sets out to face the day.

He grips his plate so hard that he can feel the porcelain crack. Shaking his head, he pulls away. "Do you know how much I grieved for Riley when I lost him? I was a fucking mess for so long that I didn't even recognize myself in the mirror. But you know what I learned from that, Cap? I learned that the world doesn't give a damn if you live or die. It's going to keep turning."

In spite of the Snap, there has been new life. Sam likes looking at birth announcements in the newspaper sometimes. The universe always finds a way to move on.

"The world doesn't care that Bucky is gone. The sun will still shine, with or without him. I have to do that too, Cap. I have to carry on because I am still here; I am still alive, and I will act like it."

A tense silence falls between them. There's an apology in Steve's eyes, but he doesn't voice it aloud. Instead, he presses his lips into a thin line and offers Sam a nod.

Sam relaxes, a strange calm washing over him. He hadn't noticed how much he was holding in until those floodgates finally lifted. Clearing his throat, he awkwardly lifts the plate. "Thanks for breakfast."

…

One pill before breakfast. One pill before bed.

Sam pops the lid off the bottle, staring at the pills inside. He places one on his tongue and swallows it down before returning the bottle to his drawer.

He's breaking. Though he wears a brave face and tells the world that he is fine, he knows it's a lie. More than anything, he wants some semblance of normalcy. He wants Bucky in his bed again.

But it isn't going to happen. Thanos has won, and all they can do is figure out how to cope, how they live.

And he will live. Sam will grab each day and find a way to get the most out of each and every second.

It's what Bucky would have wanted.


End file.
